


Harry Potter is a (Discount) Planeswalker

by KalicoFox



Series: Just Thoughts [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Magic: The Gathering (Card Game)
Genre: Don't @me I am a filthy casual when it comes to mtg, Gen, Harry doesn't have a deck, Harry has The Deck, all of them - Freeform, and also my HP books are in storage, as in, good luck with that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 13:50:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21137753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KalicoFox/pseuds/KalicoFox
Summary: In which Harry Potter opens a book and gains Phenomenal Cosmic Power!Most of which he can't actually use.Instead, he's stuck with a hand size of seven, a deck with over ten thousand cards in it, and no way of knowing exactly when his 'turn' ends.Good luck with that!





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Screw the Rules, I Have Escalation!](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/529184) by Stewart92. 

We join this story, dear reader, _ en media res _. The story has started, the characters in motion, and already the consequences of actions long since taken are being felt.

You may imagine, if you wish, that we are looking down into a dark room filled with shelves, all stacked high with books. That would be the correct thing to imagine, since we are, in fact, looking down into a dark room filled with shelves, each of which is crammed with as many books as it can possibly hold.

Colloquially, this room would be called a ‘Library’. Many people however, would refer to it more specifically as ‘The Library’, or, more specifically still, ‘The Hogwarts library’.

Now, let us turn our attention away from the room as a whole and look to our left. A little further… there. 

Do you see it? The faint glow of a shuttered lantern, floating among the stacks? Shall we take a closer look?

The lantern floats amongst the stacks of books in what they call ‘The Restricted Section’, pausing here and there as a voice whispers titles and authors to itself before moving on.

We’re getting close, dear reader, to the main event. Watch.

Look. The lantern has paused again, and this time something has slid away, fabric crumpling to the ground and revealing a boy, his face creased with frustration as he looks at the books around him.

And here is the choice. Does he continue to search methodically? Hoping that titles or authors will tell him what he needs to know? Or does he start taking books randomly?

It’s barely a choice, and impatience makes it for him. He reaches out to the shelf next to him and pauses again, hesitates.

There is a book there, thick and heavy looking, and grey with dust. It is chained to the shelf, and he is sure that he won’t be able to read a meaningful amount before returning to his bed. Surely it would be better to take something smaller? Something he could smuggle into his dormitory and take his time with?

His hand lands on the book next to the chained book and slides it off the shelf. It’s heavier than he expects, and he barely manages to turn it’s fall into a controlled slide to the floor.

He won’t be able to get it up to his dormitory, but it’s off the shelf. Maybe just a quick peek. Leaf through it a bit to see if anything jumps out at him.

The world is holding its breath as the cover falls open, and the boy frowns at the jumble of letters where a title should be.

“What in Merl-” 

He cuts the whisper off and scrambles to his feet as the book flashes once, barely brighter than the lantern, and then dissolves into a flurry of multicoloured sparks. The sparks hover, then swirl around and towards the boy, who stumbles backwards into the bookshelf.

One by one, in flurries and droves, the sparks sink into his skin, disappearing with nothing but a vague tingle to suggest that anything had happened at all.

As the last spark vanishes we hear an ominous creak in the distance, like a large door being slowly opened. The boy blanches and scrambles for the pile of fabric, pulling it over himself and vanishing from sight.

Quiet footsteps hurry away, leaving the still-lit lantern glowing softly in the aisle.

  


Imagine that we are intangible, dear reader, and indulge me once more as we zoom out, leaving behind the mostly dark, mostly still library. We will leave the boy to the rest of his midnight adventure and instead turn our attention to an old man in a tower not to far away. He sits, despite the late hour, at a desk, his quill moving busily across a page.

His work is interrupted by the shrill sound of metal grating against metal and he looks up just in time to see a delicate golden instrument emit a puff of multicoloured smoke and melt into an equally delicate looking golden puddle.

Alarm flashes across his face, and he stands, hurrying around his desk to the mirror which hangs above the fireplace.

“Harry Potter,” he says firmly, and taps the frame twice.

The glass ripples, distorting the reflection of the office beyond all recognition, and when it stills again, the man is looking at a dark hallway as a door slowly opens of its own volition, then closes again. The door is a familiar one, and the view shifts to the inside of the room, where a large mirror stands on clawed feet.

“Ah…”

He watches for another few moments as the boy becomes visible and reaches behind himself, then the man taps the mirror’s frame again and ripples clear the scene away.

The boy is alive, and safe. All is well.


	2. The Deck, The Mirror, The Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which very little of importance is acknowledged.

The Deck watched as The Summoner woke and made his way through the castle for sustenance. There was another with him, but The Deck dismissed that presence as inconsequential. The Summoner was all that required its attention, and so The Summoner would have all of it. 

It wouldn’t be long now; The Deck could feel itself integrating with The Summoner, could feel the pressure building inside The Summoner as he got closer and closer to his First Draw.

After the First Draw, The Deck wouldn’t be able to watch The Summoner like this. It would have to rely on the summons, and The Summoner. It was… apprehensive. Yes, The Summoner was a good choice, but he had also been the _ only _ choice, and it rankled The Deck to know that somewhere out in the world there might be better Summoners. Certainly there would be more _ experienced _ Summoners; this one was barely a tenth of the way through his life cycle _ before _ his genesis as The Summoner.

A sense of light bloomed around The Deck’s awareness, and it settled, anticipatory and resigned into the back of The Summoner’s mind. It was time. The First Draw had begun.

Harry froze, his eyes wide as something _ settled _ in his awareness, then bloomed outwards like a match catching for the first time.

Sparks flickered away from the main ‘body’ of the awareness, and Harry ‘reached’ for them, wondering—

“Alright then, Harry?”

Ron’s voice jolted him out of his reverie, and Harry blinked, looking down at where his fork was stuck in a sausage.

“Huh?”

“You got lost, mate. Stopped right in the middle of a sentence. You alright?”

Harry blinked at his friend, then smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine, sorry. Anyway, that mirror, d’you want to come see it?”

Ron nodded, stuffing a sausage into his mouth. “Sure. Better’n getting snowball massacred again. Fred and George are _ brutal. _”

Harry snickered as he watched arms drop around Ron’s shoulders, the twins leaning down on either side of their brother with sly smiles.

“Hark!” one of them proclaimed, “Did mine ears hear what I think they did?”

“A little brother spreading foul and villainous tales!” the other twin agreed, and Ron moaned, slumping in his seat.

“Oh come on…”

“Now now, ickle Ronniekins,” the second twin scolded casually, “don’t be like that! It’s still the holidays! And holidays are a time for family!”

“That means you too, Harry,” the first twin added easily, shooting Harry a wink, “you’ve got a Weasley family jumper, which means that neither of you are getting out of this afternoon’s snowball fight!”

“Right!” Twin Two agreed, shaking Ron gently. “It’s us against the Ravenclaws, and I’m pretty sure they convinced Flitwick to help out, so we need cannon fodder!”

Harry snorted, then blinked as something shimmered into view above Twin Two’s head.

“But I don’t _ want _ to be cannon fodder,” Ron moaned, squirming to try to get away from his brothers, “it’s bloody cold out, and Harry promised me a game!”

Harry, who had done no such thing, tried to look as though this was in no way news to him as the twins looked at him. 

“Oh yeah,” he agreed, “I promised him ages ago.”

Something shifted above Twin One’s head as he squinted suspiciously at Harry.

Harry tried very hard to look unconcerned.

Eventually, George sighed regretfully and stood up straight.

“Too bad. Hey! Maybe we can get a couple of the Hufflepuffs to join in instead!”

Fred stood too, and stretched. “Worth a shot!”

Ron watched as they headed across the mostly empty Great Hall, then sighed with relief.

“Phew, I thought we were goners for a second there. C’mon, let’s get out of here before they come back.”

Harry glanced down at his sausages, then shrugged and grabbed a piece of toast to wrap around one before following Ron out of the hall.

“Would it have been so bad?” He asked, and Ron shrugged.

“I dunno, but I’d rather see that mirror you were telling me about.”

“All right.”

Back in the Great Hall, a pair of gingers cheerfully harassed a small group of students in black and yellow; the tags that Harry had ignored floating silently, unseen by anyone else, above their heads.

_George Weasley_ [](https://imgur.com/yAaDEcp)

_ Fred Weasley _ [](https://imgur.com/cbqX9OP)


End file.
